


Six Feet Under

by midnightwrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 4x01, Buried Alive, slight PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightwrites/pseuds/midnightwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean remembers the grave-escape training that John put him through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Feet Under

_“You gotta learn to do this, Dean- I’m not going to be here to do it for you forever.”_

_**** _

Dean gasped violently when he woke up, dazed and confused and unaware of where he was. He felt around and quickly concluded that he was in a box underground, due to the stuffy air around him. Everything smelled of dirt and rotting something, but he didn’t want to wait around to find out what it was.

He reached into his pocket and was relieved to find the lighter that was there. He quickly flicked it on, and took in the box quickly. He could feel his heart rate speeding up as he noticed just how small the box he was trapped in was.

“Help!” he tried, but his voice was too sore and too unused to make a loud enough sound.

****

_“H-help! Dad, I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe in here, dad, help, please!” The dirt that caved in around him was damp and thick and stuck in his hair. Only moments later, he felt his fathers strong hands pulling him up and out of the ground. He gasped for air and relished the feeling of air in his lungs._

_“We’ll try again tomorrow,” John said, disappointment apparent in his voice. He clapped Dean on the shoulder before walking off. Dean hated the feeling of his warm tears slipping down his cheeks, clearing the mud off of his face._

_**** _

Dean coughed before he realized that he had a limited time before his oxygen ran out. He began clawing at the boards above him. To his surprise, they gave out after a strong pull and a grunt. The dirt from above caved in on him quickly.

****

_When he kicked off his dirty boots and peeled off his mud clad clothes, Dean could feel the stress leave his shoulders. He showered quickly and retired to his bed. John poked his head into his sons’ room and directed his attention to Dean._

_“Get a good night’s sleep- grave escape training continues tomorrow.” Dean felt his eyes snap shut and he nodded his head, glad that his back was to his father. “Did you hear me son?” John asked sternly._

_“Yes, sir,” Dean answered quickly. John gave a terse nod and closed the door. It took Dean much too long to fall asleep._

_“Dean. Dean! DEAN!”_

_Dean shot upright, panting violently from his nightmare. He pawed the blankets away from his face and gasped a few more times, frantically wiping the tears from his face. He coughed and bent forward until he was folded in half, legs out in front of him with his face pressed against the mattress. He let himself cry._

_“He was screamin’ in his sleep- I think he had a nightmare.” Dean could hear the soft whispers of Sam explaining Dean’s outburst to their father. He then felt the edge of his bed dip, and Dean sat up, wiping the tears from his face._

_“What happened, Dean,” John asked- more like an interrogation than the questions of a concerned father._

_Dean wiped the last of his tears off his face and said, “I had a nightmare. I was burried alive and couldn’t get out of the coffin, and then when Sammy woke me up I was under the covers, and... I got scared.” The tone of Dean’s voice betrayed his stoic face, proving that he was, in fact, frightened. John only nodded his head and patted Dean on the shoulder._

_“Just get some sleep, boy,” John said, standing to leave. “It was only a nightmare, after all.”_

_**** _

The dirt that was collecting under his fingernails hurt, but Dean ignored it and pushed on, his father’s words ringing in his head. _Not going to be here forever._ Dean kept digging. _This could come in handy one day, Dean. Keep digging!_ Dean held his breath and sealed his lips tight, not letting any dirt into his mouth. _Stop crying! We’ll keep doing this until you can get it right._ He felt his hand hit open air.

****

_Dean surfaced, coughing. His thin arms struggled to pull the rest of his body out of the ground. His legs tried to kick at something, but they were too pinned by the dirt to be successful. He groaned and tried to muffle the sob that was working its way out of his throat. When his chest was finally level with the ground, Dean used the grass as grip and was able to pull himself up and completely out of the ground. He rolled onto his back and panted, trying to keep the tears at bay. John came and stood over him._

_“Good job, Dean,” John said. He handed him a bottle of water and turned to walk away. “In an hour we’ll go over it again; see if you can get out of the ground faster.” Dean let himself cry._

_**** _

Pulling himself out of the ground was just as satisfying as it was when he’d done it as a child. The first wave of cool air against the back of his hands and eventually his cheeks were like heaven, and when he finally filled his lungs with air, it thought he was going to weep with joy.

He heaved himself out of the grave like he’d done before, his stomach flat against the ground as he used the shrubbery around him to pull himself out of the hole. His breath was still heavy when he stood to take a look at his surroundings. There were two things going through his mind at the time.

****

_Where’s Sam?_

_and_

_**At least dad taught me something worth while.** _


End file.
